


No More Catapults

by Cantatrice18



Category: Nanny McPhee (2005)
Genre: Backstory, Family Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Pre-Canon, Woobie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-10-17
Packaged: 2019-08-03 14:30:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16327778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cantatrice18/pseuds/Cantatrice18
Summary: Shortly after Evangeline arrives at the Brown household, she accidentally falls foul of one of the children's many anti-nanny pranks. But unlike the nannies, she isn't ready to give up on the Brown family just yet.





	No More Catapults

In retrospect, the catapult had been a poor idea. It had been Eric’s brainchild (of course), and Simon had approved at once. After all, without something drastic they’d never get rid of this second nanny. And they had to get rid of her. She smelled of prunes after all. Unforgivable. 

 

They’d been practicing all morning, using different forms of ammunition. Lily had just donated part of her hanging mobile when they heard someone coming up the stairs. “It’s her. Quick!” Chrissy hissed, and the children crouched down at the end of the room out of the catapult’s range. 

 

Simon took careful aim, waiting for just the right moment to strike. He knew they’d have just one chance before the element of surprise was ruined. As the top of the woman’s head came into view he leaned back, putting all his weight into pulling the catapult’s arm down and releasing the contraption with a snap. 

 

The mobile pieces flew like shrapnel toward the stairs. They heard a cry of surprise and pain, then a thump as the intruder fell down the stairs onto the landing. “Got her!” Sebastian squealed. 

 

The children rushed to the stairs, only to stop short. “Oh, no,” Tora murmured, looking stricken. 

 

Below them, sprawled like a limp doll, was the new maid. Father had only hired her a week before, after their old maid Ms. Loors had walked out in a huff. This girl was younger, much younger than Ms. Loors had been, and far nicer. Even Eric had admitted as much, though he made sure to remind them all at regular intervals that maids were no more trustworthy than nannies. Nonetheless, they all agreed that Evangeline’s presence made life without Mother much more bearable. 

 

Glancing worriedly at one another, the children crept down to the landing, kneeling around the maid’s prone form. “Is she dead?” Sebastian hissed. 

 

Tora brushed Evangeline’s long hair aside and rested her fingers against the woman’s neck, checking for a pulse. “Not dead,” she pronounced, to everyone’s relief. 

 

“Not awake either,” Simon pointed out. “And that doesn’t look good.” 

 

He pointed to the maid’s left arm, which was tangled in the strings of the mobile. Her wrist was at an odd angle, and as he ran a hand over her skin he felt the heat rising from the injury. “Broken?” he asked Eric. The younger boy knew anatomy better than any of the others, though he was far from an expert. 

 

Eric felt Evangeline’s wrist, his brow furrowed. “Fractured, maybe? Hard to tell.” 

 

“Well, we can’t just leave her here,” Tora said sensibly. 

 

The others agreed. Eric and Tora positioned themselves so that they could lift the maid’s arms, while Simon took charge of her legs. Together they carried the unconscious woman to the nearest bed, placing her gently on the sheets and covering her with a patchwork quilt. “We have to go to dinner,” Lily said reluctantly. “Father won’t like it if we’re late.” 

 

“We can’t just leave her here,” Sebastian protested.

 

“She’ll be safe here until she wakes up,” Simon decreed. 

 

“What if she doesn’t wake up?” Chrissy whispered.

 

No one answered. Quietly and meekly, they processed down the stairs to the dining room and took their seats. No one felt like talking, not even to their father. They’d just finished their soup when in walked Nanny Ulrica, hands on hips. “Mr. Brown, I’m sorry, but I’m afraid one of your children simply will not obey my orders. She refuses to get out of bed, won’t even answer me. It’s inexcusable.” 

 

“One of my . . .” 

 

Mr. Brown looked around at the children, counting. “I don’t understand,” he admitted. “All my children seem to be present and accounted for.” 

 

The children exchanged glances. Nanny Ulrica sniffed disapprovingly. “In that case, there is an intruder in the nursery,” 

 

“An intruder?” Mr. Brown’s eyebrows shot up. “Dear me.”

 

“It’s not an intruder,” Sebastian burst out. “It’s Evangeline.” 

 

Simon shot him a quelling look, but the damage was done. Their father frowned in confusion. “It’s who?” 

 

“Evangeline,” Lily said patiently. “The new maid.” 

 

“Sleeping on the job?” Nanny Ulrica looked appalled. “Inexcusable.” 

 

“It isn’t her fault,” said Tora, glaring at the nanny. “We . . .”

 

“We hurt her,” Eric admitted reluctantly. 

 

“You hurt--” 

 

Mr. Brown stood abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. The children scrambled to follow as he strode out of the room, up the stairs to the nursery. The moment her arrived he made a beeline for the figure in the bed, stopping only when he was an arm's length away. His hand hovered over her shoulder as though unsure whether it would be proper to touch her. “What did you do?” he asked his children quietly. 

 

Simon stepped forward, the de facto representative as the eldest child. “We made a catapult,” he explained, gesturing to the contraption at the far side of the room. “We meant to hit Nanny Ulrica, but Evangeline got in the way instead.” 

 

Ignoring his son’s blatant admission that the children had intended grievous bodily harm to their nanny, Mr. Brown knelt at Evangeline’s side. “Is she badly hurt?” he asked no one in particular. 

 

“Her wrist,” said Eric. “A fracture, I believe.” 

 

Mr. Brown reached for the young woman’s wrist, drawing her arm out straight and running light fingers over the injury. “We’ll need a doctor for her,” he said heavily. “I’ll telephone at--” 

 

He stopped speaking abruptly. Evangeline’s lips had parted and she’d emitted a low moan of pain that made every last one of the children turn red with guilt. The maid’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked around in confusion. Catching sight of her employer leaning over her, she gasped. Mr. Brown hastily let go of her wrist, but made no move to stand. “Children, a moment please.” 

 

It was not a request, and for once the children obeyed without question. Simon paused halfway down from the landing, standing on tiptoe to look back toward the bed. Mr. Brown’s head was bowed. “I can’t apologize enough,” he murmured, sounding pained. “My children, well, I’m afraid I’ve lost control of them. Since their mother died everything’s been different.” He broke off, shaking his head. “What am I saying? There are no excuses.” He sighed. “I’ll pay your severance in full, with a week’s bonus.” 

 

“What?” 

 

Evangeline’s voice was soft and hoarse, but Simon could hear her distress. “Severance? Why?”

 

Mr. Brown straightened up, and Simon could just imagine how his eyebrows were approaching his hairline. “Surely you don’t wish to stay. Not after what’s happened, what they’ve done to you.” 

 

“Of course I want to stay,” Evangeline insisted. “That is,” she glanced away, “if you’ll still have me.” 

 

“Have you?” Mr. Brown echoed faintly. “Of course I’ll have you.” He looked down at her wrist, wincing. “For the moment, though, I think we should focus on patching you up before you return to any sort of work. And you should probably be in a proper bed, rather than sharing Simon’s.” 

 

Evangeline laughed, a sweet, musical sound. Simon heard Mr. Brown chuckle, and realized with a jolt that he hadn’t heard his father laugh in a long time. Perhaps there would be more advantages to keeping Evangeline around than previously thought. In any case, he was glad she’d decided to stay with the family. As he snuck down the stairs to tell the others what he’d heard, he made a mental note never to use a catapult again. At least, not without taking proper aim.


End file.
